The Observations

by Jane Harris

  Observations on the Habits and Nature of the Domestic Class in My Time

  Had we an account of the nature, habits and training of the domestic class in my time and details of particular cases therein, no history could be more useful, but it strikes me that such matters are rarely heeded and that what knowledge we have remains within the realm of personal experience. It were to be wished that some good author would make his observations on the subject during his time so that the knowledge could be passed down, though it is only a man of great good sense could wish to do so with any success.

  In the absence of such an author, I humbly offer the following theoretical discourse and case studies. Those servants I have lived to see myself I wish to remember and note down in these pages, both for my own use and for the elucidation of others. I am aware that being only in my twentieth year my experience is not yet extensive. Nonetheless, as time goes on I will add to the account particulars of any servants who come to work here.

  It should be noted that I may have to restrict myself to house servants since I am unable to observe farm servants with any depth or regularity as they are quartered elsewhere and, in any case, I gather that they are generally a sodden lot, much given to horse-play and obscene talk, receiving friends and drinking together in their ‘bothy’ to ‘make night hideous with their revelry’. Am I now going to assert that the servant should toil ceaselessly, with no rest from his labours? Nothing could be further from my intention. Man is not a machine and used as one he is most imperfect. However, I venture to assert that the absence of food for the mind when labour is ended is a grievous cause of domestic ennui. We must teach our servants to read and write or, better still, endeavour to employ persons who already have the basic skills upon which some light and regular instruction can improve. Especial care should be taken with reading, above all that the girls read fluently. A mistress should ensure freely available access to texts including, for example, the Bible, Walter Scott, Mr Dickens, Richardson and so on.

  However, my intention is not only to advocate the education of servants but also to examine how else we might get the best out of them. I cannot but acknowledge once again my inefficiency to discuss fully the many important bearings on the matter of the domestic class but it rejoices me exceedingly that in writing this book I am able to contribute my stock of information and if any single observation or suggestion of mine should tend to elucidate a difficulty or lead to any practical result such a prize is all I can expect. With all its imperfections, and I am aware that there may be many of them, I place this book before an indulgent public . . .

  And so on. So this was it. This was why her fingers was sometimes stained with ink. The missus was writing her own book! She had been at it for years, indeed since not long after she arrived at Castle Haivers. The Observations.

  You could have knocked me down with a feather.

  I flicked through the next pages, they were a further introduction along the same lines about men of genius and how missus herself was barely worthy to look at a pen never mind pick one up which I thought at the time a terrible shame for in my opinion she wrote awful well with some lovely phrases and the punctuation was tremendous. In fact there was one or two sentences in there I thought were the most elegant I had ever read in any book.

  In the next part, entitled ‘Servants of My Experience Thus Far’ missus started in observing about somebody named Freda. This Freda seemed to have worked for the missus father in Wimbledon. She was a foreign girl but she only got two pages of observations before she was sent packing back to Germany. Apparently she had behaved in a forward manner with a gentleman caller who came to tea then took his leave but was later found skulking in the basement after dark near this Fredas room. The gentleman himself was full of apologies when confronted and he was so charming about it all that it wasn’t long before he was forgiven. Not so the bold Freda, she kicked up a powerful fuss and gave vent to some rude remarks before she was ejected onto the pavement.

  Missus had summed it all up quite neatly.

  This one example does not mean, however, that the Foreign domestic is not to be trusted. There are many cases that would prove the opposite. For instance, I did hear of one Frenchie that has proved to be meticulous in his duties as valet to a great man of importance who is of my father’s acquaintance and it is well known in society that Mrs B—of M—goes nowhere without her coal-black Negress . . .

  Next missus observed at great length about Nanny P.—a paragon of a woman who I am surprised is not numbered among the saints judging from the missus account of her virtues. Nanny Ps death was a terrible blow to missus and a few lines here and there was smudged as though tears had fallen to christen the page.

  After that there was a whole clatter of entries, none of them long and each headed up with a girls name. I got the impression that these were girls who had preceded me at Castle Haivers in the distant past and will transcribe some phrases to give the gist.

  Margaret . . . sauce-box . . . refuse to record . . . impertinent . . . good riddance . . . Vhari . . . Highland girl . . . only five days . . . middle of the night . . . spoons missing . . . Shona . . . another Highlander . . . all of three weeks . . . somewhat wasteful . . . James displeased . . . bitter argument . . . marching orders . . . Peggy . . . rather pert . . . cow eyes at all and sundry . . . terrible cook . . . flounced back to wherever she came from . . .

  And so it went, page after page of girls and misdemeanours. Then there was a few blank pages and another heading.

  Some Notes on Physiognomy and Other Matters

  Over the last few years I have begun to form in my own mind the belief that there may be some connection between the Physiognomy of a servant and his character. It has not escaped my attention that a skinny, ill-tempered looking girl will often prove to be just that, whereas a fat creature of amiable countenance will fail to surprise by behaving just as her appearance might suggest. For instance, from personal experience, my own Nanny P. could not have been a more lovely character and her good temper was well expressed in her rosy apple cheeks and plump homely figure. On a note not unrelated to the preceding, I am also intrigued by the notion that just as there is a ‘type’ of person that is naturally rebellious and naughty, there are also those that are born with the desire to serve—the inherently obedient. If such inherently obedient persons were found to have similar physical attributes—the same shape of face, for example, or ears set low on the head—how much easier then would be our task of hiring, since we could tell with one glance who would render good service and who would not!

  As a preliminary measure, I will henceforth record descriptions of the physical attributes of each girl, including measurements of the proportions. By observation, I will also record the girl’s general temperament and—specifically—her inclination to obedience. This information, once collated, can then be used as a basis for analysis . . .

  One further area of interest to be explored is the notion that a servant will respond not only according to circumstances and background but also according to how he or she is treated by their master or mistress. I suspect all would become clear if only one could see directly into the mind of the domestic. To know how and what they think—surely then one would understand how to get the best out of them . . .

  . . . Of course, readers may raise an eyebrow at the fact that we employ only one girl in the house, in addition to our farm servants. However, my husband believes that it is better to fully employ one servant than to waste money in keeping several idle. He also sees great benefit in my taking an active part in the running of the household and I quite agree, as how dull would life be if one had nothing to do! . . .

  After this the entries became more detailed, they included the girls ages and a brief physical description. Then there would be a list of measurements of their bodies and faces, just like missus had done with me. And then some account of how they had acquitted themselves while in employment, if they could read, what books she had give them if so, when and if
they had misbehaved and so on. None of it was particularly interesting to me so I flipped on through the book until I came across this more intriguing entry.

  Tragic Loss of a Servant

  All being well, a servant will remain with the household until such time as it is mutually agreeable for him or her to leave. Unfortunately, there are times when Fate steps in and removes a girl from the world before we are ready to let them go—and how then are we to deal with the loss? Of course, I am not suggesting for a moment that the death of a servant is of the same magnitude a tragedy as losing a family member or a friend or even an acquaintance of the same class. A servant is a servant and, in some cases, one would be hard pressed to remember their names a few days after they have gone on to work elsewhere (unless one keeps a record, as I do). However there are those among them who can—be it that they are particularly adept at work or pleasant in countenance or obedient to us—find a corner in our hearts. Should something befall one of these servants the loss can be harder to bear.

  For example, it so happens that a girl of ours—Nora, the Irish girl previously mentioned in these pages—recently disappeared. The general opinion, in the first day of her absence, was that she had run away. Of course, anyone who knew her would realise that this girl would never do such a thing. She was reliable, trustworthy, loyal and amiable. I have found that Irish girls are much better tempered than their Highland counterparts and there is also not always the same language difficulty. Nora was amongst the finest of her kind, an extremely pleasant girl and all of these characteristics were evident in her engaging looks.

  Sadly she met with a fatal accident. Apparently, a troupe of itinerants discovered some remains next to a line of the railway track and reported their find to the first person they saw, who happened to be our foreman. He immediately recognised Nora (despite extensive damage to her person there was no mistaking her identity). The local village does not have a policeman but with the arrival of the constable from Smoller, the itinerants were arrested, briefly, but were released when our Dr McGregor-Robertson examined the scene and pronounced that Nora’s death was (of course!) caused not by her fellow countrymen but, without doubt, by a speeding train. This was confirmed a few days later when the rest of her body was discovered, further down the line, somewhere between here and the nearby town of Bathgate.

  Our doctor informs me it is not known where exactly the collision took place, as her body could have been dragged any distance. No driver reported seeing anyone on the tracks. However, it seems clear that, at some point, the poor girl wandered onto the track and somehow failed to see a train approaching . . .

  The funeral took place yesterday. I did not attend, being a little too upset and my husband did not think it wise. Of course, everyone is most shocked, myself especially since I was particularly fond of this girl. I felt that in Nora I had found (at last!) the ideal servant, always eager to please and well-liked by all who met her. Alas, she was with me for only six months . . .

  Poor dear Nora! I fear I will never find another like her. In such cases, those who are not as close to the deceased have, of course, their own reactions to the death. For instance, my husband seems concerned in the main with potential scandal. He is horrified that such a tragedy should have happened on our land. I myself had the sorry task of packing up Nora’s few belongings and putting them away in the attic. As far as we are aware there is no family but I shall keep her few things and her paltry pair of thin, faded frocks just in case anyone should come asking for them. I had thus far managed to remain in control of my emotions, but I must confess that, as I folded away Nora’s clothing, I found myself shedding a tear or two.

  At this point I paused in my reading of The Observations because an awful thought was forming in my mind. I stared down at the frock I had on. I must admit, I ½ expected to see it fall in rotting shreds from my body and crumble to yellow dust on the floor but it was just the same as always, grey and a bit faded and too tight in the tit. Could missus possibly have give me clothes belonging to a dead girl? For that was what the ‘Great Tragedy’ suggested. I could not countenance that my missus would do such a ghoulish thing but all the same it troubled me.

  And then I remembered the words and hooting laughter of AP Henderson when he was asking about my predecessor. ‘Did she go on the train? ’

  So that was his joke—a very grisly one.

  I flicked back several pages.

  Nora

  Age 22 years

  Smaller than average height

  Bust 32

  Waist 28

  Hip 36

  Arm 10 and ½ inches

  Neck 12 and ¼ inches

  Skull 21 and ¼ inches

  Mouth 2 and ¼ inches

  Mouth to ear 5 and ¼ inches

  Nose 1 and ¾ inches

  Between the eyes 2 inches

  By observation: brown hair, pleasant countenance, sparkling eyes, clear skin, one missing tooth (incisor), small frame, lively—darting—like a bird.

  Nora has now been with us for five days and has proved to be most efficient and pleasant in carrying out her duties. She is Irish by origin and has been in this country for six years. Her mother having been a milkmaid, Nora knows her way around a dairy and has therefore thankfully been able—in addition to her other duties—to help with the cows in the absence of one of our girls who has gone to tend a sick mother. Nora’s father was a ploughman and as a result she is thoroughly versed in the ways of the countryside. One could not ask for a better parentage in a country maid! She is also terribly pretty, and there is a definite match between her engaging looks and her demeanour, which is always amiable. True, I no longer adopt the position that a direct correspondence between looks and temperament is always inherent. Nonetheless the evidence in this case is convincing.

  I am delighted to say that, in addition to her other talents, Nora is also a good cook. Best of all, she responds to my every request with consummate obedience. Some girls balk at having their dimensions recorded or at least put up a fuss if one should try to measure their face, but Nora uttered not a murmur. Indeed, although she looked slightly puzzled as I pressed the tape measure to her nose, she did not afterwards even question that I had done so! The nose in question is quite short and a little upturned (with, I venture to add, a charming dusting of light freckles!). I had thought a short upturned nose to be the sign of a liar, but now wonder whether this characteristic could be a key indicator of high obedience levels? . . .

  At this point, I began flicking through the book, impatient to see if there was any mention of my own name and (hopefully!) similar praise of me, when something else caught my eye and I turned back a few pages. Here is what I read.

  Morag

  Aged about 15 (but doesn’t know exact birth date). No measurements as she refused the tape measure point blank. By observation: teeth yellow and ridged but strong. Hair red (indicative of temper?). Skin very rough and ruddy (indicative of drink?).

  This subject has been with us for two days, it having been necessary to acquire her with short notice at the hiring fair, since the girl who was supposed to replace Nora never arrived. (I believe on Mrs Lauder’s authority that she has eloped with a footman!)

  Morag does not seem afraid of hard work but on first impression she does perhaps have a capacity for stubbornness (see above remarks re: tape measure). She also has a startling way of cackling with laughter directly in one’s face, which I fear may drive me to distraction ere long . . .

  When I read this it occurred to me that Morag could only be the redhead lass that had cackled at me in the lane as I made my way towards Castle Haivers for the first time. The description sounded just like her. And surely then, it was her book that I’d found burnt in the fire? I remembered the night I’d asked about her, when missus misheard me and thought I wanted to know about that other girl, Nora.

  I read on eagerly to find out about Morag.

  I began with this girl by asking for the whole story of her life but she is tac
iturn and it was difficult even to persuade her to provide the simplest details. However despite her apparent lack of spark, I find that she can read and write, having received a few years of basic education from some enlightened soul in her home village. Her hand is childish but legible so that happily I can get her to keep a journal in the hope that it will reveal something of the inner workings of her mind. I am sensible that she may not write anything illuminating and it is even possible that she may use the book as a tool for deception—but that in itself will be interesting to observe.

  I flicked forward a few pages and read several sections at random.

  Morag has now been here a fortnight. She carries out ‘normal’ duties quite well (if rather sullenly) but refuses to take part in anything that does not pertain to what she regards as her proper area of work—in other words, any of my research! I have more or less given up the notion of carrying out any kind of experiments with her as she has proved to be uncooperative in the extreme . . .

  . . . I have complained about Morag’s sullen demeanour in a letter to my husband but his reply states that I was foolish to take her in the first place. It is his theory that the only purpose of hiring fairs is to give bad masters a better chance of getting servants and bad servants a better chance of getting masters. In my defence may I say that the only alternative girl on the day was so ragged and filthy and stank so badly, that in comparison this Morag seemed almost presentable . . .

  . . . Relations with Morag have almost come to breaking point. We barely speak to each other. Yesterday she leaned forwards and regurgitated a mouthful of half-chewed sausage onto the table, claiming the meat to be rank. I have now decided to take all my meals separately, as this grisly sight almost forced a reappearance of my own food . . .